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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237341">Small, Controlled Fires</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold'>Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Black Emporium 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Assassination Attempt(s), Background Carver Hawke/Merrill - Freeform, Background Relationships, Background sibling issues, Dragon Age II - Mark of the Assassin DLC, Dwarf Culture &amp; Customs, Dwarven Politics, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Infidelity, Mutual Pining, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Semi-explicit sex, Surface Dwarf Culture and Customs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:06:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric Tethras wouldn't say he had alternate motives for wanting to visit an Orlesian Chateau. </p><p>And he <i>certainly</i> won't admit to sabotaging their own travel plans for an extra night in Val Royeaux for the chance to see a certain genius with a beautiful name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Black Emporium 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Black Emporium 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Small, Controlled Fires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/gifts">hollyand</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my wonderful betas and lovely friends &lt;3 I would be crazy without you. I'd like to specifically thank: </p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/pseuds/blarfkey">Blarfkey</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38">LostinFantasies38</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama">Toshi_Nama</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRareFereldanCatLord/pseuds/TheRareFereldanCatLord">TheRareFereldanCatLord</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/coryfirelion">Coryfirelion</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuffypelly">Tuffypelly</a></p><p> </p><p>You all beta'd and supported me for different fics in the Exchange for me and I cannot remember who did what SO just let it be known I appreciate all of you for your love and support. </p><p>Hollyand - this is the Bianca/Varric fluff you deserve!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>If Hawke suspected, she said nothing.</p><p>And Varric didn’t want to admit it to himself, but his best friend suspected. He knew it the second her lips pursed and those razor sharp eyes of hers swung like an accusation to the crossbow on his back.</p><p>But they had a rule, him and Hawke. He didn’t ask about her love life. She didn’t ask about his. Was it healthy? Maybe not. But it worked, and Varric was used to making things work.</p><p>Honestly, he was sure Hawke started to suspect when Varric was fully on board with this… Orlesian theft adventure. Sure, Varric made a show of complaining about leaving Kirkwall. He <em>certainly</em> expressed the correct amount of vehemence about working for the Qunari.</p><p>But there was a thrill in having a good excuse to go to Orlais. And Hawke wasn’t stupid, no matter how she acted.</p><p>“Shame about the construction on the road.”</p><p>Varric looked from up his hand to smile at Daisy. The elf was curled up next to Hawke, feet tucked neatly under her on the bench. They’d been waylaid by a bridge washing out, meaning they’d needed to reroute. The delay caused them to miss their ship, Which meant spending an extra evening in an inn just outside Val Royeaux.</p><p>“A real shame.” Hawke muttered, looking up from her cards and piercing Varric with a withering, exasperated glance.</p><p>Well, he deserved it. To be fair, it had cost him an arm and a leg to arrange that accident with the bridge. Plus, now he had to help replace it.</p><p>“Carver told me there is a shop that sells the best sweets in Montfort! I wanted to stop on the way, but I couldn’t remember the name, and-”</p><p>“Carver?” Hawke drawled. Merrill may not have noticed the twitch of pain over pointed features, but Varric did. “Well. He always did have a sweet tooth.”</p><p>“Yes! He wrote me all about it.” Daisy chirped, tipping her hand forward as she spoke. Varric counted her cards and shook his head, appalled. He really needed to put some energy into teaching her how to play Wicked Grace.</p><p>“I thought maybe I should try to send him a cake.” Daisy’s eyes were as round as dinner plates. “Do you think he’d like that? Should I make enough to share with the other Wardens? How many Wardens do you think-”</p><p>Varric wondered when the last time <em>Hawke </em>got a letter from her own brother was and felt a matching, sharp stab of regret. It wasn’t easy, he supposed, to be Hawke’s sibling. But…</p><p>Well. At least he was alive. And at least Hawke knew he was alive. That was something. Varric didn’t have that same something.</p><p>Suddenly, his interest in cards was gone. Which, honestly, was just as well. It was time to go back to his room and see if his muse took his bait.</p><p>“I’m beat.” Varric threw his winning hand onto the table without even revealing his cards. “Think I’ll turn in early, ladies. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”</p><p>Hawke’s shrewd eyes swung back to him, measured him. He swore he saw the slightest incredulous shake of her head, although it could have been a trick of his imagination.</p><p>“Give Bianca a kiss from me. She’s saved my ass many a time on this misadventure.”</p><p>Hawke’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Yeah. She knew. She <em>definitely</em> knew.</p><p>“But she doesn’t have lips.” Daisy frowned and Hawke laughed, throwing her own cards down.</p><p>“Varric will find somewhere to kiss, I’m sure.”</p><p>“A gentleman <em>never</em> kisses and tells, Hawke.” Varric adopted a wounded look of dismay.</p><p>“I’d expect no less from you Varric.” Hawke kicked back on her bench, tossing a lanky arm around Daisy’s shoulders.</p><p>“So tell me about Carver’s latest letter.” Hawke’s voice was purposefully light, but even Varric could hear the barest sliver of hurt.</p><p>Guilt twisted at him for just a moment. He should stay and soothe Hawke’s wounded heart. But…</p><p>But he couldn’t miss this chance. Not when he hadn’t seen <em>her</em> in such a long damn time.</p><p>He had a nice, central room up above the tavern. It meant, of course, that it was smaller than he’d usually like. But it had the benefit of having Merrill and Hawke on either side if things got messy, as they sometimes did. There was also easy access to both staircases and a window with a short drop to the first floor into a charming pile of refuse.</p><p>It wouldn’t be a clean escape if things went south, but he’d had messier ones all things considered.</p><p>The door clicked shut behind him, the small space suddenly seeming cavernous in the silence. There was nothing to do but wait and see what his bait caught.</p><p>Because sometimes she came.</p><p>Sometimes she didn’t.</p><p>Bianca Davri had always been like that, though, a woman of her whims. She chased her passions down with single minded determination, followed her curiosity to the edges of what was known and then just a bit further into the realm of insanity. She’d been a genius, even back when he first met her, back when she was as shiny as a newly-minted copper coin.</p><p>Back when he was too.</p><p>She was, perhaps, the single greatest mistake of his life. And Maker help him, he still loved her with every inch of his being.</p><p>Why? Well. He had a hundred stories written in his head about the whole doomed affair. Each one a bit more tragic and haunting than the last, if he was being honest. He’d been tweaking the story so long, he wasn’t sure he really knew the truth of it anymore.</p><p>At the core of it, there’d once been a girl, and she’d been brilliant and beautiful. Then there was a young man, clever and poor. And of course it ended badly. All stories like that did. The only reason it hadn’t ended in death was because… well.</p><p>Because she followed her curiosity into insanity, and then when she saw she could go no further, Bianca saved them both.</p><p>Saved <em>him</em>.</p><p>He busied himself with removing his boots, slipping his shirt from his shoulders. He gave his crossbow a loving once over, even though it hadn’t seen any action since they left the Chateau. He finally withdrew both reading glasses and his journal, settling onto the bed. Nothing ever summoned Bianca like Varric making himself comfy, after all.</p><p>His pen scratched at the paper. Words fell mechanically. One ear strained to listen to every sound as the stone in his stomach grew heavier with every passing second.</p><p>Sometimes she didn’t come. Sometimes she<em> couldn’t. </em></p><p>Sometimes he wanted to bang his head against his desk until he forgot everything about her.</p><p>And just as his thoughts turned dark, two sharp knocks sounded on his door. Varric’s pen froze. Waiting. Counting.</p><p>Ten second later. One more knock.</p><p>Their signal. Always had been.</p><p>Pen and journal flew from his hands, glasses tossed aside carelessly, but he composed himself before he opened the door. Steadied his shaking hands, brushed the strands of hair back from his face. Would she notice more lines there than had been? Would she care?</p><p>He paused. Savored the reveal. Then opened the door with slow, careful deliberation.</p><p>“I was starting to wonder how long you were gonna make me wait.”</p><p>Artifice forgotten. Showmanship abandoned. All it took was the smooth, soft lilt of her voice and he was a templar desperate for his next lyrium hit. He snagged her from the threshold, pulled her into his arms. Her laugh took the shape of his name when he kicked the door closed behind them, but he silenced it with his lips on hers.</p><p>Leather gloved fingers came up to run greedily over his stubbled jaw line while they stumbled back towards the bed. Bianca’s thighs hit it first and she fell back onto the sheets with another laugh, reaching for him with hungry eyes tracing his form.</p><p>“Make <em>you</em> wait?” Varric repeated just as she gripped his arms and tugged him forward with a smith’s hidden strength. He could have resisted but… well, he’d never been good at resisting Bianca.</p><p>Still. A little complaining was warranted as he rolled onto the bed beside her, eagerly bringing her back to his chest. “You’re late, Bianca.”</p><p>“I’m a busy woman.”</p><p>She swung her legs over his hips, rising above him and eagerly throwing her hood off so her copper curls spilled free. Eyes the color of the sky warmed with heat and affection as she stared down at him. She brought her gloves to her lips and tugged them free with her teeth while he watched, captivated.</p><p>“And somehow you still find time for me. I’m flattered.”</p><p>Varric kept his tone light and tried not to let the past swirl behind it like a cloud, but he felt the apology in her fingers when she raked them gently down his bare chest. She leaned down to press a soft kiss over his heart.</p><p>It stuttered under her touch, even if he would never admit it.</p><p>“Varric.” She chided gently. “You washed away a bridge to see me. How could a girl resist?”</p><p>He laughed, settling broad hands on her splayed thighs. “What’d you do?”</p><p>Her lips quirked up in the ghost of a younger woman’s smile. “Small, controlled fire.”</p><p>He rubbed his thumbs in small, concentric circles over the soft leather of her pants. “A classic.”</p><p>“Just like us.”</p><p>“Damn right.”</p><p>Her words ignited the passion he’d kept controlled. He <em>needed</em> her, a reminder of all the things he tried to forget and never could. The things that made him who he was underneath the chest hair. He rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress with another kiss that was better than words.</p><p>She met his inferno with her own. It always happened this way, it <em>needed </em>to happen this way, with an explosion of sparks igniting the air between them. His fingers eased her free of clothing. Her touch explored old scars and new ones. Every kiss dragged him back to happier moments.</p><p>Every kiss was one more thing<em> they</em> couldn’t take away from them. A stolen secret. A story just for their eyes.</p><p>“Varric, please.” She breathed into his ear, rolling her hips against his. “<em>Please</em>. I need you.”</p><p>He needed her to need him. After all this damn time, he <em>still</em> needed her to need him. He captured her pleas with a soothing kiss and sank into her willing flesh with a groan of relief.</p><p>She was home. She always would be.</p><p>Later, as he held her to his chest and pressed kisses to the marks he’d left and really shouldn’t have, he whispered one question into the darkness. “Why do we keep doing this?”</p><p>For a while, she didn’t respond. He thought she was feigning sleep until her beloved voice pierced the silence.</p><p>“Because you’re the only one who ever wanted me for me. And I’m the only one who ever wanted you for you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>V,</p>
  <p>May wanna consider laying a bit low. B’s a bit mad about the fire. Mother made a large purchase. Hope you don’t have any buyer’s remorse.</p>
  <p>-B</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“Maker’s <em>ass</em>.” Varric swore, staring at the paper in disgust. They’d been back in Kirkwall less than a week and he had more work piled up in his absence than he frankly wanted to think about.</p><p>The last thing he needed was assassins complicating his life. He didn’t have the damn time.</p><p>From her spot beside the fire, sprawled out over his favorite armchair with her too-long limbs in disarray, Hawke laughed. He pierced her with an exasperated glance.</p><p>“I’m not spending a week sleeping in this bloody armchair, Varric.” His friend was trying, and failing, to keep the smirk from her lips. “This time, we wait for the assassins at my place. Clear?”</p><p>Varric didn’t answer. He just groaned and held the scrap of paper to the candle on his desk, watching it ignite.</p><p>A small, controlled fire.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed! Check out some other <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BlackEmporium2020">Black Emporium 2020</a> fics and art while you're out and about!</p><p>I typically write dwarves. So many dwarves. Kinda lowkey obsessed with Varric Tethras. If any of that sounds like a good time, maybe consider my Tumblr <a href="https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/">@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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